Tuesdays with Morrie - Part I

Very recently, I read a comment on Arpit Shah's (Arpit was a summer intern in my department right after his graduation. Now he is a friend, colleague, and an aspiring young writer) on Facebook. His comment was related to death. NeedIess to say, the comment bothered me a bit. Later, when I got an opportunity to talk to him about this, I learned that his comments were his reaction to a book that he was reading. The book is titled Tuesdays with Morrie. I have borrowed the book from him. but before I read it, I wanted to reflect on my own thoughts on the topic. As I read through the pages, I will be adding commentary to this article.

People say that when someone loses a near one, time eventually heals the wound. But does time really heal? I think not. I'm not sure if the scar left by death ever heals. Time is very cruel - it robs us of our memory. In the same manner the winter morning mist obscures the beautiful view across a lake or the dark cloud blackens an otherwise perfectly blue sky.

Have you observed how dust accumulates on a book on the shelf left for long? Somehow I think time steals us of our most prized memories in a similar manner. The fading of the memories lessens the pain.

Or do we get so busy with the rigors of our daily lives that memories of the deceased slowly fade away from our memory? Whatever it is, I don't think that pain of separation caused by death can be eased. The memory just stays in the "backshelf" of one's mind only to be sparkled by triggering events. In Tagore's poem 'Hathath Dekha' (Bengali for Sudden Encounter) the central character of the poem, when asked by his former girfriend after a sudden meeting in a train compartment after decades if there was anything left from their past, so eloquently put it that all the stars of the night live in the deep of the daylight. I am eagerly waiting to read Morrie's lessons after dealing with a terminal illness. To be continued. . .